Shake the Glitter Off Your Clothes
by MinimizeYourself
Summary: 'Sam really does not want to be here right now. The only upside is the fact that he might get so drunk he won't be able to remember how disastrous this weekend is going to be. And that's only a possibility.' The glee club goes to Vegas for Sam's 21st.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I don't know what I'm doing. Someone stop me before this gets crazy.**

**This is a fill for a request on the glee_fluff_meme. It'll focus on all members of the Glee club, but mostly Sam, Kurt, Blaine, Santana, and probably Puck.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I do, however, own the strange things that go on in my brain and end up here.**

* * *

><p>Most people would consider themselves very lucky to stay in contact with almost everyone they knew and loved in high school for almost four years afterwards.<p>

Sam Evans does not.

It's not that he doesn't like his friends, because he does. He loves them as much as he did as a teenager. And yes, some of them may be dramatic, narcissistic, judgemental, naive, and, at least back then, back-stabbing homewreckers. But when he thinks about who made an impact on his life, when he thinks about who inspired him, he remembers the glee club and how supportive they were of the new kid, who later became the homeless kid.

But when he thinks about his glee club members now, he remembers that they're the people who planned his 21st birthday party without his consent and then kidnapped him and started driving to Vegas.

And now he's wedged in between Rachel and Mercedes in the backseat of Quinn's car while Finn struggles to read a map in the passenger seat.

"Wait, I don't get it," Finn says to Quinn. "Why don't we just take this road right here?" He points to a spot near the center of the map. Quinn leans over the map and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Because, Finn," Quinn begins slowly, "that's a river." Mercedes chokes back a laugh, and Rachel rolls her eyes at him. Sam wonders if they're fighting again. Most likely, judging by the indignant looks she keeps shooting him and the apologetic look he has plastered to his face.

Sam really does not want to be here right now.

The only upside right now is the fact that he might get so drunk he won't be able to remember how disasterous this weekend is going to be. And that's only a possibility.

"You know Finn, reading a map is not all that difficult," Rachel says. "Although, I wouldn't know, I happen to have a very keen sense of direction-"

Sam drowns her out. He's getting good at that. He lets out an exasperated sigh that comes out louder than it was supposed to. Mercedes frowns at him.

"Are you alright, boy?" she asks him, one eyebrow cocked. She sounds genuinely concerned, and he almost tells her that he isn't exactly excited about the prospect of spending a week in Vegas with some of the most unpredictable people ever. But he doesn't.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just one of those days, I guess," he lies.

"Well, you'll feel much better when we actually get there," she reassures him.

_If we ever get there,_ Sam thinks, looking back at Finn, who seems to be having difficulties figuring out which way is North on the map.

* * *

><p><em>Shut up and put your money where your mouth is<em>

_That's what you get for waking up in Vegas_

Santana grits her teeth as she hears "Waking Up in Vegas" for the sixth time in half an hour. That hobbit would have been dead a long time ago were it not for the fact that he was hot and Kurt was kind of attached to him.

Also, Brittany seems to like the song a lot, so that's the main reason Santana has refrained from throwing her curling iron at Kurt's car radio.

Still, she's not entirely thrilled that Blaine gets to be in charge of the radio just because he and Kurt are sleeping together. And they love each other, or whatever. She doesn't care how in love they are, the point is she never needs to hear Katy Perry or that "Blackbird" song ever again.

She rests her head against the window and tangles her fingers with Brittany's. Britt squeezes gently before breaking into the chorus again with Blaine, who only gets more enthusiastic with each refrain.

How Kurt handles that hyper little labradoodle of a man, she'll never know.

* * *

><p>This is the greatest idea Puck has ever had.<p>

He had wondered aloud to Artie one day why they had never been to Las Vegas, and Artie had replied that they never had a reason to. And the perfect excuse for a trip to Vegas? Turning 21.

And if he couldn't get plastered in Vegas on his 21st birthday, then he was gonna get plastered in Vegas on someone else's 21st birthday.

It only made sense that they take their youngest friend on his birthday, since everyone would be of age and would have no excuse to stay sober. At least they'd better not. Because nothing is stopping him from having his _Hangover_ experience.

You know, without the tiger.

So he calls Mercedes and Santana, who call everyone else, and within two hours the entire group knows about Sam's 21st Vegas Birthday Extravaganza. Except for Sam, who wasn't notified until yesterday. But the surprise element makes it all that much better, right?

He thinks about calling Sam to tell him he's the one to thank for all this, but he's kind of busy driving and making sure Lauren doesn't tear anyone in the car apart. She's sick of Artie's rapping and Tina's whining and Mike's dancing (even though Puck's not sure how he manages to do that in the car.)

"I swear to God," she starts, "if you guys don't shut the hell up and stop your pop-and-locking, I _will_ set your hair on fire."

Yeah, that was probably his biggest priority right now.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That was a nice little prologue before all the real shenanagans begin. Hold on, because it's going to be an epic ride.**


	2. You Got Me Into This

**A/N: The first true chapter. I'm so ready for this. Are you so ready for this? I am. Let's do it.**

**Okay, I just realized that it would take like 24 hours to drive from Ohio to Las Vegas, so this has turned into a road trip/Vegas adventure story. Don't worry, they'll get to Vegas by the end of this chapter. Also, let's all assume that everyone decided to fly in from wherever they're attending college to Lima to drive to Vegas. M'Kay?**

* * *

><p>After almost twelve hours of driving in a car where the only songs being played have the word "Vegas" in them, and Kurt and Blaine won't stop having eyesex, Kurt, Blaine, Brittany, and Santana finally arrive at the motel they booked for the first night of their road trip.<p>

* * *

><p>After almost twelve hours of driving in a car where Lauren almost smashes the windshield after Artie seemingly provokes her on purpose, Puck, Lauren, Artie, Mike, and Tina finally arrive at the motel they booked for the first night of their road trip.<p>

* * *

><p>After almost fourteen and a half hours of driving in a car where Rachel sings <em>Yentl<em>, Mercedes is ready to cut someone, and Finn gets them lost three, no, four times, Sam, Quinn, Mercedes, Rachel, and Finn finally arrive at the motel they booked for the first night of their road trip.

* * *

><p>The minute Quinn pulls up to the dingy motel, Sam notices that the others haven't gone inside yet. In fact, they're all sitting out front of the dingy motel, which is reminiscent of the one he lived in for almost half of high school. Quinn parks on the side of the building and Mercedes almost immediately bolts out of the car and into Kurt's arms.<p>

"I missed you, boo!" she tells him. He laughs good-naturedly at her.

Did they not see each other this morning? Sam's pretty sure they saw each other this morning.

Still, she did have to spend her entire day with Rachel Berry, so that would probably be enough for anyone to miss their best friend like hell.

"Now that everyone's finally here, can we please go inside?" Lauren shoots Quinn a dirty look, and Sam feels the need to explain that it's not exactly her fault they're so late. But it's Lauren, and he's smarter than that.

"Yeah, that sounds like a great idea," Blaine says, trying to prevent Lauren from saying anything too incredibly hurtful.

Everyone begins to file into the motel lobby. Brittany grabs Sam's and Santana's hands and pulls them behind her, smiling sweetly. Santana doesn't melt into a puddle of goo, but her eyes soften, and her body relaxes as she grips Brittany's hand tighter. It's incredibly adorable for something so subtle.

They all recieve their room keys and Sam is "fortunate" enough to be rooming with Puck. He claps a hand on Sam's shoulder as they make their way to Room 14. "This is gonna be so bad-ass," Puck assures him. Sam smiles weakly.

It's gonna be a long night.

* * *

><p>"Thanks for letting me trade rooms with Artie," Rachel says. "I just couldn't deal with sleeping in the same room as Finn right now."<p>

"Yeah, of course, whatever," Mercedes replies insincerely, trying not to roll her eyes. She has no idea what Rachel and Finn are fighting about, and she'd like to keep it that way.

"It's so nice to know that someone understands the trials and tribulations of an up-and-coming star who still wishes to maintain a loving relationship with her longtime boyfriend, and-"

"Good night, Rachel," Mercedes announces, turning off the bedside lamp.

* * *

><p>"I'm beginning to think that this maybe wasn't such a great idea," Kurt says, peeking his head around the bathroom door.<p>

"What makes you say that?" Blaine raises an eyebrow at him.

"Look at this place!" Kurt gestures around them. "I've already killed three spiders in the shower, those curtains are practically decorated with chewing gum, and the bed sheets have unidentifiable stains all over them!" He strides over to the other side of the room and holds up the sheets for Blaine to see. "Look, I'm pretty sure this color doesn't even exist in nature."

Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt's shoulders. Kurt sinks into his embrace with a sigh. "Kurt, it's just one night. We'll be fine, I promise. We'll be in a much better hotel once we actually get to Las Vegas."

Kurt doesn't respond.

"And if it'll make you feel better, we'll run down to Walmart to buy some pesticide and disinfectant spray," Blaine says.

Kurt smiles softly and kisses him. "Toss me the keys."

* * *

><p>"Santana, will you teach me how to play poker?" Brittany asks her before bed.<p>

"Britt, it's a little late for that, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but what am I gonna do if I can't play poker? What's the point of going to Vegas if I can't?" Brittany frowns.

"Baby, there's plenty of fun things to do there that don't involve gambling." Santana doesn't mention that she's mostly afraid of Brittany losing all of their money to some sleazy business man.

"Yeah, I guess so." Brittany still sounds dejected.

"Baby, come to bed. We'll talk more in the morning." Santana pulls her in next to her. Brittany curls up into a little ball, and Santana presses a kiss to her forehead.

"If you won't teach me how to play poker, will you teach me how to play Go Fish?"

"Go to sleep, Britt," Santana scolds affectionately.

* * *

><p>"I'm surprised you showed up, Blondie," Lauren says. "I thought you were a little too 'spiritual' for an trip like this."<p>

"I needed to get away for a little while," Quinn replies, pulling her toothbrush out of her foaming mouth.

"Away from what?" Lauren asks between bites of pre-packaged popcorn.

Quinn is silent for a moment. "It's complicated."

"Can't be that complicated. Spill."

Quinn sighs. "My fiancé and I need a little time apart. We've been having some problems and decided maybe we should take a break."

"Man, Fabray, you sure know how to pick 'em," Lauren snarks.

Quinn ignores her.

* * *

><p>"Why is Rachel so pissed at you?" he asks Finn while unpacking his bags.<p>

"Dude, I dunno. I never know anymore. She gets pissed for no reason sometimes, and I don't know how to deal with it," Finn confesses.

"Did you insult her talent?" Artie asks.

"What? No, I'm not that stupid."

"Did you forget her birthday?" he asks next.

"I don't think so. No, I didn't, because I remember buying her gold star earrings," Finn says.

"Anniversary?" Artie suggests. Finn's eyebrows meet for a second, but then his eyes go wide and his jaw drops.

"Uh huh, I though so," Artie says. "Have a fun week."

Mike and Tina stare at the one bed in the middle of the room in silence.

"They got us a single," Mike points out.

"Yes, I can see that!" Tina snaps.

"Well, what do you think we should do?"

Tina exhales sharply. "I don't know, Mike. What do _you _suggest we do, hmm?"

"Maybe we should just tell everyone else the truth. Maybe then we can convince someone else to trade us for a double," he suggests meekly.

"No one is going to want to trade us rooms if we tell them the truth. They'll be too pissed that we didn't tell them sooner."

"Well, we certainly can't sleep in the same bed," he says.

"That's right we can't," she says, tossing him a pillow and blanket. "There's a nice little corner over there you can sleep in."

He reluctantly accepts the pillow and blanket and curls up in the corner. "Son of a bitch," he mutters to himself.

* * *

><p>All fourteen of them meet up in the lobby the next morning, some in better moods than others. Puck reminds them all of the plan, which mostly involves driving for twelve more hours and meeting at another hotel, this one in Las Vegas.<p>

"Okay, team, it's go time. Please meet up at your designated vehicles and hit the road because, baby, we're going to Vegas." Everyone cheers in unison.

"You excited yet?" Mercedes asks Sam on their way out the door. He shrugs in a way that makes it hard to tell if he means "yes" or "no." She links their arms together and walks him to the car. He smiles a little.

He hears Rachel yelling at Finn for taking her seat in the car and stops smiling.

* * *

><p>After twelve more hours of driving in a car where the only songs being played have the word "Vegas" in them, and Kurt and Blaine <em>still <em>won't stop having eyesex, Kurt, Blaine, Brittany, and Santana finally arrive at the hotel they booked for their week in Vegas.

* * *

><p>After twelve more hours of driving in a car where Lauren throws Artie's laptop at Mike and Tina, Puck, Lauren, Artie, Mike, and Tina finally arrive at the hotel they booked for their week in Vegas.<p>

* * *

><p>After thirtteen and a half more hours of driving in a car where Rachel sings <em>Funny Girl<em>, Mercedes is ready to cut her, and Finn only gets them lost twice, Sam, Quinn, Mercedes, Rachel, and Finn finally arrive at the hotel they booked for their week in Vegas.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yay, semi-filler chapter with semi-shenanagans. It was still fun to write, though.**


	3. I Lost My Fake ID

**A/N: Oh look, actual Vegas. See, I'm not just full of broken promises. **

**I'm sorry it took me so long to post this chapter. I had computer problems because technology hates me. :(**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee and I've never been to Vegas, because I'm 13 and there's no point in going to Vegas if you can't drink, gamble, or accidentally get married.**

* * *

><p>It's huge. And bright. And kinda tacky. That's pretty much all Sam can process right now.<p>

He's staring up at this resort that's probably far more expensive than any of them can really afford. The sign on the front of the building looks a lot like that man-eating plant from _Little Shop of Horrors_ with the name of the hotel over it. Sam's not entirely sure what that name is though, since his dyslexia makes it look like "Fmlaonig."

"Flamingo," Mercedes clarifies. "It's apparently one of the best around. It's supposed to be really nice."

"Nice? It's like the size of Ohio," Finn says.

"Isn't this a little much?" Quinn asks Puck.

"Yeah, but it's huge," he replies.

_That's what she said_, thinks everyone.

* * *

><p>His bed is white. <em>Really<em> white. It is so incredibly white, that he's almost afraid to actually sleep on it for fear of ruining it's perfection. Puck, however, does not seem to share the same concerns and is already out cold in his bed.

Sam reluctantly crawls into his own bed without even unpacking his things, because why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?

He sighs a little, because this is Vegas, and Vegas is fun, and he should be way more excited than this, but he isn't. Instead, he just feels a little guilty that his friends are spending all their money on his birthday trip. He also feels a little apprehensive about spending the week with his friends, because they have terrible judgement and make bad choices, and what if they get him arrested or he accidentally gets married? And maybe he's paranoid, but this entire vacation just screams "DANGER" to him.

Puck begins to snore, and Sam muffles the sound by burying his head underneath his pillow. He hopes that Mercedes is right and that things will get better when the adventure begins tomorrow.

He wakes up with a stiff neck and Puck's face uncomfortably close to his own. The sun is shining too bright through the thin, white curtains and Sam has to close one eye and squint through the other to even focus on the man kneeling next to his bed.

"Dude, wake up," Puck half-whispers, shaking his shoulder lightly. "Come on, we gotta go!"

"Where?" Sam asks groggily.

"Where do you think?" Puck pantomimes drinking.

"What the hell do you mean? I just woke up!" Sam protests, crawling out of bed.

"It's already almost two, man." Puck points to the digital clock on the bedside table.

Huh. Whadda ya know?

Sam tries another excuse. "I'm not legal until tomorrow," he says.

"And that, my friend, is why the good Lord gave us fake IDs." He tosses Sam a pocket-sized card that claims he's 28 and is named Tom Thompson.

"You got me a fake ID when we could've just waited one more day?" Sam asks incredulously.

"Yes, but where's the fun in that? This is more dangerous. Now come on!" Puck is getting impatient.

"Fine, just let me change and-"

"Nope, there's no time! Let's go!" Puck interrupts, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him out the door.

They ride down the elevator in silence, though Puck is brimming with excitement the entire time. Sam grins a little at his child-like enthusiasm, which isn't so child-like when you think about the fact that he's enthusiastic about getting wasted.

Santana and Lauren are already waiting for them when the elevator doors open and they step out into the hotel lobby. Santana is tapping her foot, and Lauren is checking her watch.

"What took you so long?" Lauren complains as soon as she sees them.

"It wasn't my fault!" Puck holds his hands up as if to say, "I surrender, please don't hurt me, scary, strong ex-girlfriend."

"Whatever, the point is you're late and we've lost seven and a half minutes of drinking time." Santana crosses her arms over her chest. "So are you coming?"

Sam goes over the possibilties in his head. He could stay here, sleep some more, wake up when he's ready, eat some food, and then, if he feels up to it, go out drinking later with Mercedes. Or he could go drinking right now at 1:45 in the afternoon, spend the entire day hammered, and then probably end up in a car crash when Puck decides taxis are for people who can't hold their liquor.

It's an easy decision, really.

"You know what?" he begins. "I can't seem to find my fake ID."

"Are you kidding me? I just gave that to you," Puck says.

"Yeah, I must have misplaced it when we left in such a hurry." It's a lame excuse, really. But what else can he say?

"Fine, but it's your loss," Santana says. "I could have set you up with any chick you wanted. I'm pretty good at picking which ones would be stupid enough to believe you were a movie producer."

Puck nods in agreement. "She is."

* * *

><p>Puck knows Sam didn't really lose his fake ID, but he's not gonna pressure the kid into doing anything he doesn't want to do. He'll come around eventually, right? And even if he doesn't, Puck still gets to party in Vegas for a week, so it's a win-win situation.<p>

He doesn't know the name of the bar or where it is in relation to the hotel, and he doesn't care either, because that's not his problem. He's not driving today. He's safe like that.

Santana passes him a shot.

And another.

And one more.

He drinks it down, and it burns his throat in the best way possible. He grins and reaches for another, but a long, slender hand reaches past his and grabs the shot he had already claimed as his own. He turns to see who the hell would dare take his liquor from him and is shocked to see that it's a chick. A hot chick.

Well, well, well. This should be interesting.

"Excuse me," he begins smoothly, "but I believe that belonged to me."

"Oh, really?" the mysterious, exotic-looking hottie replies. "Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? Maybe I could buy you another to repay you?" And that's exactly what she does. They drink a little and flirt a lot, and he doesn't realize he's invited her over until they're already walking out of the bar and back to his hotel room.

He waves goodbye to Lauren and Santana on his way out. The looks on their faces say that they're not happy with him abandoning them, but they're not too surprised either.

He couldn't care less either way.

* * *

><p>A knock on the door disturbs Sam's slumber, and oh my God can't they just leave him alone it's almost his birthday and he wants to sleep! Still, it would be rude to ignore whoever <em>won't stop knocking<em>, so he reluctantly pulls himself out of bed, stumbles across the room, and opens the door.

"Hey, man, you gotta leave," Puck says instantly. He has a woman hanging off his arm. An attractive woman.

_Oh, of course,_ Sam thinks. _Why am I not surprised?_

"Are you serious?" he asks. "You have to do this now?" He checks the digital clock again. It's just after four and Puck has already found some woman to sleep with.

"Dude, can we talk about this later? Can you hang out somewhere else? Please?" Puck pleads pathetically. The woman looks just as desperate.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Fine, do whatever you want. I don't even care." He storms out the door perhaps a little childishly, except not really, because Puck just kicked him out of their hotel room to sleep with a stranger. At 4:30 in the afternoon. He has every right to be pissed.

He marches down the hallway, only to realize he has nowhere to go. He doesn't know where anyone is. For all he knows, they could have left the building hours ago, leaving him lonely and barefoot in the hallway with nothing to do but cry. (He's been watching too many chick flicks.) He texts Mercedes. _Where r u?_

She replies almost immediately. _**Mine and Rachel's room.**_

He breaths a sigh of relief. _I'll be right there._

Before she even has the chance to ask why, he's knocking on her door, begging to be let in. She lets him in, looking confused. He begins to explain the situation with Puck and his douche-y ways, but is interrupted by a high-pitched wail. He turns to the bed that he assumes is Rachel's and notices that the human-shaped lump under the covers is, in fact, Rachel.

"Uh, what is she doing?" he whispers, so as not to accidentally hurt Rachel's feelings.

"That's a good question. I think she's crying about Finn, but she could just be practicing her bird calls," Mercedes deadpans. Rachel lets out another wail that signifies she heard them talking about her. Sam winces at the shrill sound.

Rachel pulls the covers down from her blotchy, red face. "I'm not being unreasonable am I? Am I being unreasonable, Sam?" He doesn't know what to say, so he stares open-mouthed, shrugging his shoulders. This does nothing to appease her, and she immerses herself in the bed sheets again.

"Yeah, I can't do this anymore," Mercedes says. "She's Kurt's problem now. Wanna go do something fun?" She holds out her hand to him expectantly.

He nods and takes her hand.

* * *

><p>Kurt emerges from the bathroom at last. "All right, let's go," he says, dressed to the nines with perfectly styled hair.<p>

"Wait, I'm confused. Where are we going again?" Blaine asks, furrowing his brow.

"I don't know. I assume we'll find somewhere fun to go," Kurt explains.

"What if I don't wanna go anywhere?" Blaine strides over to him, slipping his arms around Kurt's waist. "What if I wanna stay right here?" He rests his forehead against Kurt's, his long, dark eyelashes fluttering on the other boy's smooth skin. Kurt begins to respond, but Blaine captures Kurt's lips with his own, silencing him indefinitely.

Kurt lets one hand slide up Blaine's chest, resting just over his rapidly beating heart. His other hand searches blindly for Blaine's, trailing down his arm until they find each other, tangling their fingers together. Blaine pulls him closer, simultaneously deepening the kiss. Kurt's hand inches up higher and rests on the side of Blaine's face, his thumb smoothing over Blaine's stubble. His tongue darts out to taste Blaine's lips, a mixture of peppermints and cherry chapstick. His hand is now twisted in Blaine's curls, tugging slightly as the kiss becomes more forceful. Their teeth clash almost painfully as they grip each other fiercely, toying with the buttons on each other's clothing-

_Bzzzzzzzzzzzz_.

Kurt's phone vibrates against Blaine's thigh, startling them both and effectively ruining the moment. Blaine groans outwardly, and Kurt frowns apologetically, pulling the aforementioned phone out of his pocket. He reads the god forsaken message and nearly throws his phone at the wall in frustration.

_**Going out w/ Sam. Rachel is all yours.**_

He shows the message to Blaine, who utters a soft, "Dammit, Mercedes," slips on his shoes, and accompanies Kurt out the door.

* * *

><p><em>Knock, knock, knock. <em>"Rachel?" _Knock, knock, knock._ "Rachel, we know you're in there." _Knock, knock, knock._ "Come on, Rach-"

"Rachel, open this goddamn door before I do it myself!" Kurt threatens.

Rachel opens the door.

Blaine almost feels bad for her when he sees her red-rimmed eyes and shaking shoulders. He's pretty sure there's a tissue stuck in her hair too, but he doesn't want to point that out just yet. Kurt isn't as understanding though. He's standing in the doorway with his arms crosses over his chest, tapping his foot impatiently. She looks at him like she's expecting sympathy. That is not what she recieves.

"Rachel, what is your problem?" he questions a bit harshly. Her bottom lip quivers.

"Men. Men are my problem. Finn, specifically," she answers with a sigh.

"Yeah, well, enough is enough. Put your big girl panties on and come with us." Blaine snorts a little at the expression. Rachel shakes her head and sits on the edge of her bed.

"Alright, well, you asked for it. Blaine?" Blaine nods and promptly picks Rachel up and flings her over his shoulder. She squeals and begins kicking her legs wildly in the air. "Let's go."

"Umm, Kurt? Kurt, she's flailing, she's making this difficult-"

"Rachel!" he barks at her.

She stops kicking.

* * *

><p>"Where are you taking me?" she whines from the backseat of Kurt's car.<p>

"That depends on how well you behave," Kurt says, as if Rachel is a small child. Blaine brings a hand up to his face to cover his smirk.

"No, it doesn't!" Rachel protests. "I know you, and you definitely have a plan. I just don't know what it is yet."

"Patience, darling, patience," Blaine says. "You'll know what it is when we get there."

"Do _you_ know what it is?" she asks. He pretends he doesn't hear her, because if we're being perfectly honest, he doesn't know what it is. He's learned not to question Kurt when he looks scarily determined.

They drive in silence for a bit, and Blaine notices Kurt's knuckles are tense and white on the steering wheel, which he's gripping like a lifeline. Blaine reaches over and untangles his fingers from the wheel, massaging them gently and kissing each knuckle tenderly. Kurt smiles softly and twists their fingers together. Rachel sniffles from the backseat.

"Honey, I don't know what happened, but you've got to calm down," Kurt says, his voice softer and kinder than before.

"I don't wanna," she mumbles. Blaine doesn't even try to stifle his laugh.

He doesn't notice they've arrived at their unknown destination until Kurt is parking the car and pulling the key out of the ignition. He cranes his neck to speak to Rachel, who is _lying down_ in the backseat. "Rach, are you coming?"

She sighs dramatically. "I suppose." Blaine gets out of the car before she does, crossing to her side to open the door and offer her his hand. She lets him help her out like the gentleman he is. She shoots him a grateful smile before catching a glimpse of their whereabouts. She does a double take, gazing up at the concert hall Kurt has brought them to.

"What exactly are we doing here?" she asks Kurt suspiciously. She takes another look at the building. "This place looks abandoned."

"That's because it is. At least this time of year," he explains, still not answering her first question. He takes Blaine by the hand and grasps her sleeve, dragging them both around to the back door, which is thankfully unlocked. (Rachel can't help but think that that's probably a little dangerous.)

There is a black baby grand piano on far stage left. The stage is a pretty good size, big enough for the showstopping musical numbers she and Kurt are so inclined towards. And that's when she gets it.

"Kurt? Is this what I think it is?" He just winks in return, whispering something in Blaine's ear, who crosses over to the piano and sits on the bench.

"Whenever you're ready, baby," Blaine tells him. Kurt nods and Blaine begins to play (with the enthusiasm of a true performer, she notes to herself.)

She recognizes the song as soon as Blaine begins to play the intro. She and Kurt saw _Chicago_ together at the Lima Community Theatre when they were in high school, and in a way it had become their musical. They had watched it countless times at sleepovers over bowls of ice cream and piles of Rachel's tissues. She had felt a connection to Roxie Hart and her completely understandable need for fame and the spotlight. Now it just makes her nostalgic. Kurt begins to sing, and she echos him.

_One thing I know_ (_one thing I know)_

_And I've always known (I've always known)_

_I am my own (I am my own)_

_Best friend_

He offers her his hand, and she takes it, only a little miffed that he gets to be Roxie and she has to echo him as Velma. She squeezes his hand lightly as the song goes on.

_Baby's alive (baby's alive)_

_But baby's alone (but baby's alone)_

_And baby's her own (baby's her own)_

_Best friend_

They don't run around the stage in some elaborate, self-choreographed attempt to climb on as many set pieces as possible, because the only set pieces in sight are a flight of stairs and the piano Blaine is playing. They just stand in the semi-darkness, hands clasped, singing one of many duets they've sung together. She's not going to say it's the best they've ever sung together, because performance-wise, it isn't. But it makes her feel better.

She doesn't realize the song is over until Blaine is clapping enthusiastically from behind the piano, and Kurt is pulling her into a hug. She squeezes her eyes shut, draping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder. She hopes this is enough of a "thank you."

He pulls back and grabs hold of her shoulders. Looking her in the eye, he asks, "Are you alright?" Genuine concern, she notes. He didn't just bring her here so she'd stop crying and ruining his vacation. He wants her to be happy. Because they're best friends. Best friends who break into concert halls and sing showtunes. She smiles and nods.

"I'm fantastic," she assures him. He looks satisfied enough.

He releases her shoulders from his surprisingly strong fingers and links their arms together. Blaine takes her other arm on the way out, and she smiles up at the two boys she loves the most, the ones who will never break her heart.

"You know," she starts, "you two are really good at cheering people up. I can't even remember why I was mad at Finn in the first place." Her face drops once she realizes what she's said. Tears pool in her eyes almost immediately, though she tries to hold them back.

"Oh, God, she said his name," Blaine says, bringing a hand up to his forehead.

"Really, Rachel?" Kurt asks incredulously. "You just had to think about him, didn't you?"

She responds with a sob that shakes the ground beneath them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Recap- Puck is having a one night stand, Mercedes rescued Sam, and Kurt and Blaine were cockblocked by a depressed Rachel. **

**Also, sorry for that probably suckish Klaine makeout scene. Remember, I'm used to writing angst.**


	4. Why Are These Lights So Bright?

**A/N: Look, it's already chapter 3 and I haven't even incorporated any drunk people yet! (Except Puck, but he was only buzzed and do anything entertaining.) We'll have to fix that. **

**This chapter is mainly an excuse to bring up the drunk girl stereotypes introduced in BIOTA.**

**Also, sorry this update took so long! I've literally had four auditions in the past few weeks and I've been super busy. **

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own Glee, but if I did there would definitely be a spin-off starring Chris Colfer and Darren Criss in the near future.**

* * *

><p>Mercedes takes him to dinner with the rest of their group, minus Puck, Kurt, Blaine, and Rachel, even though it's five o'clock and he's pretty sure only old people eat that early. Lauren and Santana seem to still be a little tipsy from this afternoon, but have no qualms about ordering a glass of wine with dinner. He drinks water, due to the fake ID he "lost." He orders some Italian dish he can't pronounce, pointing stupidly and showing the waiter that he wants "that one." But he's having a nice time, because there's no chance of anything bad happening right now.<p>

"Does eating Italian food teach you how to speak Italian?" Brittany asks. Santana shakes her head, covering Brittany's hand with her own.

"No, honey, not really," she says. Brittany looks disappointed.

"So, where's Puck?" Quinn asks, changing the subject. Sam's brow furrows and he grits his teeth in aggravation. Mercedes answers for him.

"He...made a new friend." This obviously does not come as a surprise to the rest of their party. Sam wonders when exactly he'll be getting his room back, because knowing Puck, he probably plans to keep the room occupied until the next morning. Finn pats his shoulder and gives him a sympathetic look.

The table falls into casual conversation about school, work, and most of all, _relationships_. Mike and Tina look uncomfortable when the topic of marriage comes up, which is weird, because they eloped immediately after graduation, and they always seemed happy. Artie shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly when Mercedes asks if he has a girlfriend, and Quinn glares daggers at Lauren when she asks Quinn how her fiance is.

"Fine, thank you very much," Quinn says, gritting her teeth and looking poised to wedge her fork in Lauren's neck.

"Yeah, how is Dawson?" Santana asks, stuffing another bread stick between her lips.

"Daniel, his name is Daniel!" Quinn snaps. She brings her straw to her lips to take a drink from her (empty) soda glass. "Dammit, I'm out of soda," she mutters fiercely.

"Honey, you need to get laid," Santana suggests. "Or at least drunk." The majority of the table nods in agreement.

"Yes, why have we not been out for drinks yet?" Artie asks, and Sam represses the urge to shout, "Because it's still before seven!"

"We should do something about that," Santana says, folding about a dozen bread sticks in a napkin and shoving the bundle in her purse. "Alright, everyone, mine and Britt's room in an hour. Artie will supply the booze!" Everyone seems pleased with this arrangement.

Everyone except Artie, that is.

* * *

><p>"WOO! IT'S PARTY TIME!"<p>

"DAMN STRAIGHT IT IS!"

"Could you not scream in my ear, Artie?"

"What the hell you talkin' 'bout, I can't even reach that high!"

According to Santana and Artie, it's party time. Damn straight party time. Quinn doesn't know how she feels about this, because she's only been drunk twice before. The first time she ended up with a baby. The second time left her with a really bad hangover. She's had the common sense to stop getting drunk after that.

Still, rum is pretty delicious. Why has she never had rum before? Why would the world deprive her of such a wonderful thing? Why has the world instead presented her with cheap wine coolers? Those are not rum. Rum is rum. And rum is good.

And now she's drunk.

* * *

><p>Santana thinks- no, <em>knows<em> that this party would be so much better if Kurt and Blaine were here to get drunk and make out in front of everybody, so she sends Blaine a text. Something along the lines of, _stop screwing ur bf and come drink w/ me!_

He responds, _Oh, if only that's what I'd been doing all day. :(_

They show up about fifteen minutes later, looking decidedly pissed off and dragging a puffy-eyed, sniffling Rachel behind them.

Oh, those poor, cockblocked fools.

"I don't wanna be here. Finn is here, and I don't want anything to do with him!" she whines. Kurt's mouth is pressed into a thin line, and his shoulders have tensed. Blaine whips around to face her.

"Oh, my God, Rachel, enough!" He picks up a bottle of some sort of alcoholic beverage from the floor and says, "Here! I don't know what it is, and I don't particularly care, but if it'll get you to shut up, then by all means, drink it!" Her eyes widen in fear, and she obediently swipes the bottle from his hand and takes a sip.

"Alrighty, Blainers, let's just take some deep breaths and a few shots, hmm?" Santana wags her eyebrows suggestively, handing them each a full shot glass. Blaine accepts his gratefully. She pretends not to see Kurt pass his off to Lauren behind his back and head over to where he sees less potent beverages. It doesn't matter, though. It's not going to take long for Kurt to get drunk, no matter what type of booze he consumes.

And boy, will it be entertaining.

* * *

><p>Of course, Santana always forgets that she becomes a blubbering, desperate mess when she has too much to drink. She finds herself paying less attention to whether or not her hot, gay friends are still wearing clothing and more attention to Brittany, who is obviously going to leave her for someone better someday.<p>

"Brittany, you love me don't you? Don't you?" she whimpers, throwing herself onto Brittany's lap. Brittany frowns and pats her head reassuringly.

"Santana, of course I love you!" Santana cranes her neck to look at Brittany. Brittany is clad only in a bra covered in butterflies and a pair of short shorts, but Santana doesn't seem to notice.

"No, you don't! You're so pretty and so awesome, and I'm such a bitch, and you'd just be better off with, like, Finn or that hot cocktail waitress we saw earlier, wouldn't you?" Santana wails, pulling herself off of Brittany and flailing her arms wildly before throwing herself onto the floor.

The last thing she remembers before she passes out is Brittany hooking her arms around her chest and Blaine grabbing her ankles as they moved her from her position on the floor to the sofa.

Actually, the last thing she remembers before she passes out is the fact that Blaine is still wearing a shirt. Damn it.

* * *

><p>Mercedes is pretty drunk. Sam can tell by the way she keeps laughing and playing with his hair, and he's pretty sure she started singing "Trouty Mouth" a minute ago, until she burst into giggles.<p>

He's definitely buzzed at the least, and he's actually having a good time for the first time on this trip. Alcohol does that to you, he remembers almost fondly. He hasn't actually been drunk since the Rachel Berry House Party. It seems that college has had the opposite effect on him and has turned him into an anti-party animal.

It's probably because he goes to Christian community college. And they've _brainwashed _him.

At midnight Mercedes taps his shoulder repeatedly to get his attention and enthusiastically announces to him, "You're twenty-one!" He smiles at her and takes another swig of whatever's in his red plastic cup, not knowing what to say since they've been drinking for hours now.

She giggles and rests her head on his shoulder. She smells like...good. He can't think of a word to describe it. Kinda fruity, he guesses. Maybe it's flowery. Okay, he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about because he's drunk and full of shit, but she smells really good and warm, and he likes having her close to him.

And he's pretty sure it's not the cheap champagne talking.

* * *

><p>"Fiiiiiinn..." Rachel drawls, weaving her arms around Finn's middle. He carefully tries to pry her fingers away from his waist, but she's fiercely gripping his T-shirt in her fingers.<p>

"Yes, Rachel?" he asks hesitantly, still trying to escape her grasp.

"I'm so sorry I got mad at you," she slurs. "Let's never fight again, okay?" He doesn't respond. "Okay?" she asks nervously, sounding hurt.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Finn says, hoping she doesn't turn from a clingy drunk into a weepy drunk. But then she presses her lips to his sloppily, and he's pretty sure she's just clingy. And while he'd rather her make out with him while she's sober, it's still better than her crying and yelling at him.

* * *

><p>Blaine often forgets that he occasionally developes heterosexual tendencies while under the influence, and it's Kurt's job to keep him occupied and distracted from any and all potential games of spin-the-bottle.<p>

He doesn't particularly enjoy playing the part of Blaine's overprotective, jealous boyfriend. It reminds him too much of Rachel and every other teenage girl obsessed with whether or not their boyfriend is staring at someone else. But someone has to keep Blaine from accidentally flirting with their friends, particularly female ones.

And if preventing Blaine from partaking in adolescent party games means pinning him up against the bathroom wall with his hips, then so be it.

Kurt sinks his teeth into Blaine's soft skin, nipping and sucking at the sensitive spot where his neck meets his shoulder while massaging Blaine's curls with one hand. He works at Blaine's neck with his mouth, making sure to leave a mark before licking a stripe up to the spot just under his ear, swirling his tongue around and eliciting a soft moan from Blaine. He smiles and presses a kiss to Blaine's jaw.

Blaine tangles his fingers in Kurt's hair and pulls his head back to look him in the eye. He rests his forehead against Kurt's and captures his lips in a wet kiss. Their tongues slide against one another's sloppily, and Blaine's fingers tighten in Kurt's hair as Kurt's warm hands wander over Blaine's chest, resting at his hips to curls his fingers around Blaine's waistband. Blaine swips his tongue across Kurt's bottom lip and _where the hell did he even learn how to kiss like that?_ He fists his hands in Blaine's T-shirt, trying to keep from arching his hips closer to Blaine's. Blaine smiles into his mouth, one hand fumbling with the button on Kurt's jeans-

_Knock, knock._

They jump apart instantly, smoothing out each others mussed hair and rumpled clothes. More than agitated, Kurt answers, "Can I help you?" to whoever is at the door.

"It's Rachel," she replies. Kurt and Blaine roll their eyes and sigh exasperatedly. "Can you let me in? I think I'm gonna be sick!" she shouts. Kurt opens the door and gives Rachel the ultimate bitch glare, and she pushes them out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Everyone outside the bathroom gives them a knowing smirk, and Kurt resists the urge to flash them his middle finger and swear at the top of his lungs.

* * *

><p>Puck arrives at the party after more than half of the guests have either gone home or passed out on the floor. The only conscious ones present are Lauren and Finn, and Finn doesn't look like he's been drinking anyway.<p>

"Hey, Puckerman, way to show up," Lauren snarks. He chooses to ignore her.

"Where'd everyone go?" he asks, gesturing to the mostly empty room, with the exception of a few sleeping bodies.

"It's two in the morning, the all went back to their rooms," Finn explained.

"At least, most of them did," Lauren said. "Sam decided to stay with Mercedes since she could barely stand on her own, Kurt and Blaine went to go do it since they kept getting cockblocked here, and Mike and Tina went to go be cold and distant in private, I guess."

Puck looks around the room at those who didn't make it back to their rooms. Quinn is lying horizontally on one of the beds, Britt and Santana are sleeping comfortably in the other, Artie is passed out in his wheelchair in the corner, and Rachel is...

"Hey, where's Rachel?" he asks. Lauren points to the bathroom. He peeks his head around and sees Rachel curled up on the fuzzy bathroom mat.

"Aww," he says, snapping a picture with his phone. "That's precious."

"So what are you doing here?" Finn asks. "I thought you were hanging with some chick." Puck's face drops immediately.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he sulks. Lauren raises an eyebrow.

"Did you get dumped, cupcake? After one day?" she asks with mock sympathy.

"I said I don't wanna talk about it, Lauren!" he exclaims. She holds up her hands defensively.

"Alright, I get it. I'm going back to my room anyway. Do you think I should haul Quinn back with me?"

"It's fine, I'll take care of her." Finn has grabbed hold of Artie's wheelchair and is about to wheel him out the door when Puck asks, "Finn, do you want to leave Rachel in there?" He gestures to the bathroom.

Finn doesn't respond.

"I'll take your silence for a 'yes.'" Finn mouthes a thank you, taking off down the hallway before Rachel can wake up. Puck looks down at Quinn, who is still hanging off the side of the bed.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me, Quinnie," he says, picking her up bridal style and carrying back to his empty hotel room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, yeah. Drunk people.**

**Recap: Everyone got smashed, Puck doesn't want to talk about his girl, and Kurt and Blaine were cockblocked by Rachel again because I love running jokes. ;)**

**Up Next: Puck and Quinn have some bonding time, Lauren and Artie try to get to the bottom of Mike and Tina's strange behavior, and there's gambling! Yay!**


	5. Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

**A/N: Hey, sorry this took so long. Feel free to chew me out in your reviews that you're totally going to leave, right? Yeah. Totally.**

* * *

><p>Quinn snores lightly into his shoulder as he fumbles for his room key. He has one arm curled around her waist, and she leans into his side as he props the door open with his foot and scoops her up into his arms again. He kicks the door closed and deposits her on the rumpled bed.<p>

And of course, she wakes up _after_ he carried her up two flights of stairs.

"Puck?" she mumbles sleepily. "What are you doing in my room?" She presses the heals of her hands to her eyes to rub the sleep out of them.

"Actually, you're in my room," he explains, sitting himself on the edge of the bed.

"Then what am I doing in your room?" she asks, burying her face in the pillow.

"Well, I came back to Britt and Santana's room to find that everyone had left except you, Finn, Lauren, and Artie. Oh, and Rachel was passed out on the bathroom floor." Quinn smirks in spite of herself and then gives him a questioning look.

"That still doesn't explain why I'm here with _you_," she sneers. He rolls his eyes and throws up his hands in surrender.

"Damn, Fabray, I am _so sorry_ that I decided to do you an act of kindness. Would you much rather stay in Brittany and Santana's room and hope to God that they don't get it on in the middle of the night, which they will? Or do you want to spend another night in the same room as Lauren, since I know you guys are such _good friends_?" he scoffs.

She lowers her head. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I just...I kinda feel like shit right now. For a number of reasons."

"Like what?" he asks.

"You know, just...the usual."

He stares at her. "That can mean a lot of things, Fabray. Spill."

She sighs. "We're in Vegas. I'm supposed to be having fun, right?" He nods. "But I'm not. All I can think about is how lonely I feel."

"You feel lonely?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Well, more than usual," she replies. "I sort of forgot that this trip would mean seeing all of our old friends and that half of our old friends are still in relationships with their high school sweethearts. Kurt and Blaine, Britt and Santana, Mike and Tina...even _Finn and Rachel_ managed to make it."

"What does that have to do with anything?" He moves to sit a little closer to her, bumping their shoulders together, but she inches away slowly.

"It's just that I get to watch all these happy couples vacation in Vegas together when my fiance didn't even want me." She flops onto her back and throws an arm over her eyes. "Nobody ever wants me."

Puck frowns and leans back against the headboard. "It's okay," he tries. "It's really not a big deal." And that was a stupid thing to say because it really is a big deal, being wanted by another person, being needed. It's always been a big deal to her.

"You don't understand. You don't have that problem. When have you ever not been wanted, Puck?" she asks bitterly.

He looks down at her and says, "I got stood up today."

She removes her hand from her face and sits up. "What?"

"I had a one night stand in the middle of the afternoon, and when I woke up in the evening she was gone," he admits.

"So what? That's what one night stands are for." She turns to face him and crosses her legs in front of her. "You've done it plenty of times.

"Exactly! I'm the one night stand-er! I don't get one night standed by some chick! It insults my masculinity," he adds quietly.

She stares at his face for a moment, raising one eyebrow and searching for any hint of irony or humor. And when it becomes clear that's he being serious, she begins to laugh.

She laughs a lot.

And he looks at her incredulously, feeling wounded and offended. But then she's lying on her back again, shaking with laughter, and he doesn't know why, but yeah. This is pretty fucking funny. So he laughs with her until they're both rolling onto their stomachs and muffling their mouths with the pillows.

"Why are we laughing?" he asks between short breaths.

"Because you're such a douche bag!" she laughs once more, and they both try to catch their breath.

When the excitement has died down, she turns her head to face him. "Thanks."

"For what?" he asks.

"For letting me laugh at your expense. It's very therapeutic." She rubs one hand over his shoulder. "I almost feel kinda feel bad for you, though. Was she hot?"

He groans. "I don't wanna talk about it anymore. Go back to sleep." She smiles at him once more, turns off the bedside lamp, and burrows underneath the covers.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Zizes?"<p>

"What up, Wheels?"

"Have you noticed anything weird with Mike and Tina?"

"Yeah. Asian Fusion isn't so tight anymore. They seem...well, married."

"It's more than that. Something's wrong, I think. I just don't know what it is. We need to get to the bottom of this."

"Are you suggesting evil scheming?"

"Possibly..."

"I'm in."

* * *

><p>"Santana?" Brittany says that morning. "There's a casino here, isn't there?"<p>

"Yes, I would think so. Why?"

"Maybe that's what we should all do today. You know, as a group. It could be fun!" she insists, jumping up and down a little.

Santana hesitates. "I dunno, Britt...are you sure? There's plenty of fun stuff to do here. There's a pool, a bunch of cool restaurants and stuff."

"Come on, San. Please?" she pleads, giving Santana those puppy-dog eyes that are her secret weapon to getting what she wants.

"Oh, fine," Santana says, not wanting to risk hurting Brittany by telling her that she doesn't really trust her with their money. At all.

* * *

><p><strong>From: Santana<strong>

**To: Puck, Quinn, Kurt, Blaine, Sam, Mercedes, Artie, Finn, Rachel, Tina, Mike, Lauren.**

**It's on bitches. Meet us at the casino 5:00. Prepare to lose all your money to me.**

* * *

><p>"This seems dangerous," Kurt says, holding up his phone for Blaine to see.<p>

"And that's what makes it fun," Blaine says, pecking him lightly on the cheek.

"No, seriously," he says. "You are going to get drunk and lose all of our money we brought, and then we're not going to be able to afford to get married for another three years, and then you, being a promiscuous drunk, are going to hook up with a bartender. And I refuse to let that happen."

Blaine laughs and wraps his arms around Kurt's waist. "I promise I will drink responsibly and gamble reasonably. Come on, it'll be tons of fun."

He kisses him lightly once, and Kurt smiles bashfully. Blaine kisses him again, a little more forcefully, holding Kurt's head between his palms and stroking his thumbs over Kurt's cheekbones.

Kurt pulls back and whispers, "You also have to promise not to hook up with a bartender."

"I would never cheat on you with a bartender. Or anyone else, for that matter," Blaine replies, and leans back in to press their lips together again, one hand on Kurt's hip and the other on the back of his neck, while Kurt tangles his fingers in Blaine's curls.

And then his phone chimes that stupid little, "You've got maaail," and effectively ruins the moment. Kurt lets out an irritated, huffy sigh. Blaine tangles his fingers with Kurt's and reads the offending message.

**From: Rachel**

**To: Blaine, Kurt**

**(1/3)**

**Gentlemen, I am aware that you are most likely doing things of an intimate nature, and I respect your privacy. However, I am in need of your help tonight so tha**

**(2/3)**

**t I can look my absolute best for Finn tonight after our passionate reconciliation last night. It pains me to say this, but I slept on the bathroom floor last **

**(3/3)**

**night, and I am not in my finest state. Thank you.**

Kurt groans. "Can I shave her head in her sleep? Please?"

Blaine smiles sadly and shakes his head.

* * *

><p>They meet at the casino at five, just like Santana requested, and they all promise that there will be no stealing each others money for the sake of gambling, though Puck crosses his fingers behind his back. There will also be no ditching the group to hook up with strangers, and Quinn rubs Puck's shoulder comfortingly when he looks pained at the thought.<p>

"Also, one more thing," Santana says. "Don't let me get married."

"Don't let me get married!" they all chime back.

Everyone disperses amongst the crowd of strangers, most of them traveling in small groups or pairs. Brittany heads for the slot machines and Santana reluctantly hands her a quarter.

Quinn approaches her and whispers in her ear, "Don't worry. It's the slot machines. There's very little money she can lose over here. Just don't let her play cards, and you're safe."

Santana chuckles and Quinn walks away to order a sugary drink at the bar and lean up next to Puck. Santana rolls her eyes and thinks that yeah, of course they would get together in Vegas for like the fourth time ever.

Her eyes wander over to where Sam is leaning up against another slot machine with his hands in his pockets, looking thoroughly unimpressed with everything.

"Hey, Britt, I'll be right back," she says over her shoulder.

"Okay. I'll be here," Brittany replies, pulling the lever once more.

Santana storms over to Sam and slams her fist against the slot machine just next to his head. "Why are you being such a dick?" she demands. "We're in_ Las Vegas_. For _you_. Because it's your _birthday_. You could at least pretend to be having fun."

He looks shocked and a little pissed and mostly scared. "I tried to have fun. I did. But did you ever consider I didn't want to come to Las Vegas for my birthday?"

"Of course we didn't because everyone wants to come to Las Vegas for their birthday! It's the shit! There are half-naked chicks everywhere and it's easy to get booze and it's just awesome, so why aren't you having fun?"

"I wanted something quiet for my birthday. Nothing too extravagant, just me and some friends. I didn't want you guys to spend all your money on a trip to Vegas for me," he says.

"Oh, is this some weird guilt thing where you feel bad for making us spend money on your birthday?" When he doesn't answer, she says, "I'll take your silence as a 'yes.'" She studies his face for a second. "Damn, Trouty, you're too nice sometimes."

"It's not just that," he says. "It's wild and chaotic. I don't like wild and chaotic. It makes me nervous."

Santana rolls her eyes. "It wouldn't make you so nervous if you'd let yourself have some fun. Trust me, nothing bad is going to happen. You're not going to lose your money or sleep with a stripper, unless you want to, in which case I can totally make that happen."

He smiles a little and she smiles back. "This is my advice to you," she says. "Go have fun. Have a drink. Just don't be a dick."

* * *

><p>"Hey, Tina," Artie says, wheeling over to her. She's leaning against the wall with a margarita in her hand and a sour look on her face.<p>

"Oh, hey, Artie." She sips and smiles softly at him.

"You having fun?" he asks lamely.

She nods. "Yep. Good times."

"Oh. Well, good." He pauses. "Bye."

"Bye, Artie."

He wheels around a corner, where Lauren is waiting for him with a bored look on her face.

"She said she's good," he tells Lauren, shrugging his shoulders.

"Seriously? That's all you got out of her? I'm starting to think I need a new partner in crime."

"Hey, don't worry. We'll figure it out eventually. We have a week to get to the bottom of Operation FOWTHIWWAF."

"Exactly what is that?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Operation Find Out What the Hell Is Wrong With Asian Fusion."

* * *

><p>"I don't really understand gambling," Kurt says. "I mean, I understand it, but I don't understand why it's so popular. I find nothing enjoyable about potentially losing my money to some tool in a suit." He takes a drink of his martini that Puck bought him as a joke, but Kurt ended up drinking it anyway.<p>

"It's unpredictable. That's why it's fun," Blaine replies. "Besides, I actually _won _some money. I am already defying your expectations."

"Five dollars from a slot machine isn't much to be proud of," Kurt snarks. "And the night is still young. It's not to early for you to get drunk and do something stupid."

"Aw, thanks for having so much faith in me, babe," he says, tugging Kurt in by his belt loops.

Kurt leans in close and kisses Blaine's temple, and then he lowers his mouth to Blaine's ear and whispers, "Wanna go do something more fun?"

* * *

><p>"Santana! San! Sanny!" Brittany yells, running up to her. "I won! I won!"<p>

"What?" Santana says. "You won?"

"I won!" she yells again.

"You won?" Brittany nods excitedly. "You won! What did you win?" she asks.

"I only won like twenty dollars, but I still won! Isn't that great?" She claps her hands and jumps up and down.

"That's awesome, Britt! I'm so happy for you," she says sincerely, and Brittany throws her arms around her shoulders. By now they've gotten the attention of the rest of their group and now they're crowded around the two girls.

"Brittany won something? In gambling? For real?" Finn asks and Brittany nods again enthusiastically. "That's so cool!"

"Nice job, Britt," Quinn says, placing one hand on her shoulder.

"Now we have to go celebrate!" Rachel insists, and Brittany claps her hands again.

"And celebrating means drinking, right? Right!" Puck declares, and everybody cheers in return. They're all about ready to go to the nearest bar and drink themselves stupid for the night, but Tina stops them at the door.

"Wait, wait," she says. "Where are Kurt and Blaine?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Uh oh, what kind of shenanagans did those two boys get into? You'll have to wait until next time to find out! Mwahaha.  
><strong>

**Also, please review!**


	6. Did We Get Hitched Last Night?

**A/N: Ugh, I don't even know what I'm doing with this anymore. I'm gonna finish it, because I never give up, but there will probably only be two-ish chapters after this one.**

**I realized after the return of Sam that he's pretty OOC most of the time during this fic. I dunno, he never seemed very out-going or like a risk-taker last season. He just seemed like a regular guy to me...maybe that's just me.**

**Or maybe RIB is bad at keeping characters consistent...I'm gonna blame them for now.**

**Anyway, exciting things are happening with our gang! I can't wait for you guys to read this chapter, even though some of you probably could see this coming...**

* * *

><p>Kurt wakes up sore and bleary-eyed with an incessant pounding in his head. He tries opening one eye and winces at the little bit of sunlight filtering in through the window. He rolls onto his stomach and presses his face into his pillow.<p>

What did he do last night?

He remembers there was alcohol involved- lots of it. He remembers there were bright lights and loud music, and he had stumbled into bed in the early hours of the morning. He remembers suddenly why he doesn't like to drink because it leaves him feeling sick and sore and he can't remember anything that happened while he was intoxicated.

He rolls over and groans, running one hand over his face, and that's when he notices it. A thin slivery band around his left ring finger.

"Shit," he says. "_Shit_." He whips his head to the other side of the bed, but it's empty. It's empty, but it was obviously occupied last night.

"Holy shit," he whispers to himself.

He got married. He's in Vegas for three days, and he manages to get married. Probably to some stranger named Pualo who doesn't speak English, or a compulsive gambler, or worst of all, a _woman_.

To think he was so worried about _Blaine_ meeting someone else on this trip.

"Oh, God," he groans, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Hey," a voice says, and he turns to see Blaine standing in the bathroom doorway, squinting and holding his head.

Oh, thank goodness.

"Hey, Blaine? Come here," he says, and Blaine obliges, slowly making his way over and lying down next to Kurt. "Hey, let me see your hand," he says, taking Blaine's left hand in his own.

A silver band around his ring finger.

"Hey, Blaine?" he says, and Blaine hums in answer. "I, um, I think we got married."

Blaine sits upright in bed. "Uh, what?" he asks.

"I'm pretty sure we got married last night while we were drunk." Blaine looks to him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

"How sure are you?" he asks.

"I am almost positive," Kurt replies, holding up his left hand for Blaine to see and then gesturing to Blaine's own left hand. Blaine raises his eyebrows and nods slightly in recognition. "Ugh, I can't believe this!" he says, flopping onto his back in bed.

"Can't believe what? That we got married? Because I'm pretty sure we had already established that was going to happen..."

"No, not that we got married! That we got married in Vegas! While drunk! It's possibly the least romantic wedding ever." He pulls the bedsheets over his head and exhales heavily.

"Oh, come on," Blaine says, crawling under the covers and turning to face Kurt. "It's not that bad." Kurt opens his eyes to glare at him and closes them again. "I'm serious. It could be worse."

"Oh, really? How?"

"Well, just think about it. We could've married complete strangers, or even worse, someone else from our group. Like _Rachel_." Kurt breathes out a tiny laugh at this. "At least we married each other."

"Plus, we didn't have to worry about any judgemental relatives or anything. It was just you, me, and the Elvis impersonator who probably married us." He smiles a goofy grin, and Kurt glares at him fiercely.

"Don't say things like that. I don't even want to think about things like that." He scoots closer to Blaine and nestles his head in Blaine's chest. "But you're right. It could've been so much worse. I guess I'm just a little...disappointed."

Blaine raises an eyebrow. "Disappointed? In what?"

"Well, I've been planning my wedding ever since I was five years old and my mom first made me watch her old VHS tape of Princess Di's wedding. I had everything planned perfectly, right down to the boutonnieres we'd be wearing. It's just kinda sad to think that's all gone to waste." He sighs and runs a hand through his mussed hair.

"Hey," Blaine says, pulling Kurt's hand away from his hair and massaging it gently with his own. "Don't think about it that way. We can still have our dream wedding."

"We can?" Kurt asks skeptically.

Blaine nods, resting his chin on top of Kurt's head. "Of course. We can still have our big wedding ceremony later on. Like a second wedding of sorts." He pauses. "Unless, of course, you want to get it annulled and start all over, in which case I completely understand-"

"No," Kurt interrupts, "no, I want to stay married."

"You do?" Blaine tries to keep the giddy smile from creeping onto his face. It doesn't work.

Kurt nods slowly. "Yeah. I really do." He tilts his head up and cups Blaine's chin in his hand, rubs his thumb over the scratchy stubble on his jawline, and presses their lips together sweetly. "I kinda like being husbands," he says.

"Yeah. So do I," Blaine says, and he kisses Kurt again. He pulls back with a lazy smile before quirking an eyebrow. "Wait, what are we going to tell everyone else?" he asks.

Kurt shrugs. "That we expect presents, I suppose."

* * *

><p><strong>From: Kurt<strong>

**To: Rachel**

**Exciting news to be told. Meet us in our room in one hour.**

* * *

><p>Rachel's mouth drops in shock. "You're kidding me!"<p>

Kurt shakes his head. "Nope. One hundred percent true."

Rachel tucks her legs underneath her on the bed and stares intently at Kurt and Blaine. "I need details. _Now_."

"Well, you see, we don't really remember most of the little details," Blaine explains. "I vaguely remember suggesting we get married-"

"And after I thought about it for a while, I definitely remember saying 'I do' and putting a ring on his finger-"

"But other than that, we really don't remember anything. Except that there was alcohol involved. Lots and lots of alcohol." He hangs his head in shame.

"Well, obviously," Rachel says, and she sighs at them pityingly. "That's too bad, though. You don't even remember your own wedding."

"Not necessarily," Kurt says, and when Rachel furrows her brow in confusion, Blaine explains.

"We've sort of come up with a solution for that," Blaine says. "You see, we realized that we can still have a wedding ceremony with all of our friends and family while already being married. That way we don't have to go through the trouble of getting our marriage annulled, and Kurt still gets the wedding of his dreams." Kurt presses a kiss to his knuckles.

Rachel looks impressed and surprised. "And you're completely okay with this? Getting married on a whim in Las Vegas?"

Kurt looks at Blaine and then Rachel. "I wasn't at first. But yeah, I really am now." Blaine grins wide and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

Rachel sighs. "Ah, I envy you, boys. I just wish Finn would buckle down and propose to me already."

"Well, Rachel, you are only twenty-one. You haven't even graduated yet," Blaine points out.'

"Details," she waves him off, and Blaine chuckles good-naturedly.

"Anyway," Kurt continues, "you can't tell anybody. And we mean it, Rachel. We want to tell everyone ourselves at our own pace."

Rachel nods. "My lips are sealed."

* * *

><p>"Kurt and Blaine got married!" she yells as soon as she enters her and Finn's room.<p>

"Oh, that's nice," Finn says, yawning and rolling over in bed. "Wait, what?" He shoots out of bed.

"You heard me! They got married! They got drunk, and they got married, and they're happy and so beautiful, and isn't this wonderful? I have to blog about this!" she declares, pulling her laptop out of her bag and settling on the bed with it.

"Wow...that's...that's something," Finn says, still trying to process all the information she's provided at such an early time. (Well, early afternoon.)

"Yep! Oh, by the way, you can't tell anyone. Top secret info." She mimes zipping her lips shut.

He nods catatonically. "Yeah, yeah...of course not. Lips are sealed."

* * *

><p><strong>From: Finn<strong>

**To: Puck**

**kurt and blaine got married dont tell any 1**

* * *

><p>"Holy shit," Puck says, staring down at the message on his phone.<p>

"What is it?" Quinn asks, crawling over to where he sits on the edge of the bed and looking over his shoulder. "Oh, my God," she says, looking back and forth from the message on the screen and Puck's face. "This has to be a joke!"

Puck receives a new message and says, "Nope, it's legit. Rachel just texted me too." Quinn stares open-mouthed at the screen, while Puck begins to chuckle under his breath.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing, I just would've expected you and me to have a drunk Vegas wedding before Kurt and Blaine," he admits.

She looks offended and says, "I'm sorry, but I would never have a drunk wedding with you. You're _awful_."

He smirks and says, "That's not what you said last night...twice."

"Yes. Speaking of that, that never happened, okay? We were drunk-"

"We were buzzed," he interrupts.

"That's not the point. The point is you don't tell anybody, you don't bring it up again, not even to me. It. Never. Happened."

"Oh, but it did, Quinnie." He reclines onto his back and folds his hands behind his head.

"Ugh, I know," she groans. "But I plan on pretending it didn't."

"And how do you think that's going to work out for you?" he asks.

"It should work fine if you keep your mouth shut," she says.

He quirks an eyebrow and says, "This isn't going to work out very well for you, is it?"

She shakes her head and laughs humorlessly. "I guess not. I don't know what I expected anyway." She exhales loudly and lies down on her side next to him. "I mean, did I seriously think I was going to figure everything out in Vegas and suddenly Daniel would want to marry me again? Hell no."

Puck rolls onto his side and nudges her shoulder with his own. "I'm sorry," he says simply.

She shrugs. "It's my own fault."

They're both silent for a few minutes until he speaks up. "Do you seriously regret sleeping with me again?"

"I don't know." She exhales loudly. "But I feel like I should."

He nudges her again and says, "You know, you don't have to be ashamed of thinking I'm hot. Everyone does."

"You're such an ass," she mumbles, turning away from him and folding her arms over her chest. He doesn't fight her, just wraps his arm around her waist and rests his head on top of hers.

"I won't tell anyone at lunch today if you really don't want me to," he says. "I won't even make any dirty jokes that make anyone think we did anything.

"Thanks," she whispers. "Maybe if you're lucky I'll buy you a drink later."

He silently fist pumps in the air.

* * *

><p>Artie peaks his head around the corner to gaze down the hallway where he knows Mike and Tina's room is. It's Phase Two of Operation Find Out What The Hell Is Wrong With Asian Fusion, and he has absolutely no evidence or clues at this point, but he figures their hotel room is the best place to start.<p>

He's about to turn the corner when he sees the door to their room creak open. He whips his head back around the corner, pressing his face to the wall and turning his head so that he can just barely see down the hall.

What he sees is Tina ushering a stranger with no shirt and sex hair out of her room. She looks both ways for any passersby before sending him on his way with a kiss on the cheek.

Artie doesn't know what to do. He can't honestly say he's all that surprised because he can distinctly remember the same woman breaking up with him in high school after making out with her current husband at Asian Camp, but Tina would never cheat on Mike.

Would she?

Of course not. She and Mike are high school sweethearts. They got married straight out of school, and they're in love.

Aren't they?

He's not so sure anymore.

Before he realizes it, he's back on his floor and is rolling down the hall to where Zizes is probably waiting for him in her room. But she's not. She's walking down the hall towards him with an almost surprised look on her face.

"Tina is cheating on Mike," he says, right when she says, "Mike is cheating on Tina."

"Wait, what?" Artie asks.

"You heard me. I saw Mike leaving some blonde skank's room this morning. What's this about Tina?"

"I saw her and some guy outside her room just a minute ago. He was shirtless and she kissed him on the cheek." He pauses. "Why would Mike and Tina cheat on each other?"

Lauren shrugs. "Maybe it's one of those open marriages."

Artie shakes his head. "No, I don't think that's it. It's not yet the end of Operation FOWTHIWWAF."

* * *

><p>Lunch is fairly tense and awkward that day, but Sam doesn't really know why. He knows hangovers are a bitch and put everyone, especially Santana, in a bad mood, but he actually had fun last night for the first time since this vacation started. After Brittany won those twenty dollars or whatever, they all went out for a round of drinks, and by the end of the night he ended up back in his hotel room with Artie and Mercedes cheating at cards and watching old re-runs of Doctor Who.<p>

It's not really how time in Vegas is supposed to be spent, but he's having fun, and isn't that what Santana told him to do? Have fun for his birthday party? Exactly.

It would seem, however, that some of his friends were having a different kind of fun last night, if the flushed looks on Kurt and Blaine's faces and the unresolved sexual tension between Puck and Quinn mean anything at all.

And it would seem he's not the only one who's noticed.

"Wow, I bet you guys had fun last night, huh?" Santana says in a sickly sweet voice directed at Puck and Quinn.

"Yeah, didn't you?" Quinn says.

"No, no, I don't mean with the rest of us, I mean after." Santana waggles her eyebrows suggestively. "We all saw you leave together. Don't act like you didn't do the nasty last night. _Twice._"

"Even if we did, I don't see how it's any of your business," Quinn says, surprisingly composed.

"I'm just curious, that's all. I did say you needed to get laid on this trip, didn't I?"

Quinn stares down at her plate and shifts the eggs around with her fork, blushing furiously. Nobody else says anything, all of them too shocked with Santana's forwardness and the fact that Puck and Quinn more than likely slept together. Sam chuckles to himself, because he always did think Santana could literally smell sex on people.

"What, you jealous, Santana?" Puck interjects.

"Oh, so you admit it?" she replies.

Puck looks lost, and sort of pissed at himself for not being able to keep it a secret. Quinn shoots him a glare, signaling him to do something else, say something to distract everyone from Santana's obsession with everyone's sex life.

"Kurt and Blaine got married!" he announces.

That works.

"WHAT?" Mercedes asks, and then the rest of the table erupts in chaos.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No way!"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Kurt looks frantically back and forth from Blaine to everyone else, and he whispers, "How did he know? We agreed not to tell anyone!"

Blaine nods, but then his eyes widen. "Except..."

And then Kurt's eyes widen in recognition, too, and he shouts, "Rachel Barbra Berry, what the hell is wrong with you?" He whips his head around to glare at her fiercely.

"What are you talking about?" she asks.

"You know what I'm talking about! You told!" Kurt shouts over the rest of the group's yelling.

"I didn't- okay, yes, I told, but Finn wasn't supposed to tell anyone!"

"Hey, don't blame this on me!" Finn interjects. "I was half-asleep. I barely remember you telling me, much less me telling Puck."

"Yeah, well, you did," Puck says.

And then Kurt is chewing Rachel out again, Blaine is trying to rub his back soothingly, Finn is holding his head in his hands, and Puck and Quinn both look like they're desperately trying to devise a plan to sneak away from the table.

And Santana is laughing.

"Oh, my God," she says. "This is the best vacation ever."

Everyone quiets down eventually, and Sam notices for the first time that nearly everyone in the restaurant is still staring at them.

Great.

And it would seem that after that huge revelation, there's nothing left for them to really talk about.

Well, almost nothing.

"Well, since this seems to be the time for revealing other people's secrets, I have an announcement to make," Lauren says. "Mike and Tina are cheating on each other. Discuss." And then she leaves the table.

Mike's jaw drops, and Tina shakes her head furiously. "No, no, it's not true."

"Tina, we saw you. _Both_ of you. Just tell us the truth," Artie says.

"I am telling the truth!" Tina insists.

"She is," Mike says quietly. "We're not cheating on each other, because we're not together anymore."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I just broke Mike and Tina up. I'm such a bitch.**

**Basically, this is the chapter where everyone hooks up. Except Sam. Mwahaha.**

**Also, Let's assume for the sake of this fic that gay marriage** **is legal in Nevada in a few years. *fingers crossed***

**Also, reviews are nice.  
><strong>


End file.
